


Red is the Color of Your Energy

by guessimfloating



Category: 19天 - Old先 | 19 Days - Old Xian
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 11:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guessimfloating/pseuds/guessimfloating
Summary: Mo works out some frustration, his method needs some fine tuning.





	Red is the Color of Your Energy

To say Mo was a tad sensitive about his hair color would be an understatement, he can admit that, albeit begrudgingly. If he’s honest with himself its only because the copper spikes make him stick out like a sore thumb. Red stalks that rise glaringly like a signal flare. Impudent strands with a reputation that precede him.

Not that he doesn’t like the color, on the contrary he enjoys the way he stands out. Auburn hair a bouy drifting in a sea of browns & blondes. The carpet matching the drapes to boot. Easy to spot though, that’s the problem. On occasion he’s pondered the point of such a unique look when it prevents him from keeping a low profile. It compliments his self proclaimed badass image perfectly, fiery strands to match his equally explosive personality. Yet he tends to always get caught because what other surly redheaded teenager could it have been Guan Shan?!

On a whim he decides to dye his hair.. he was bored really.. sort of..

At first it was just for fun. Toweling his hair he looks into the mirror in anticipation of change but.. the color won’t stick. He tries black, brown.. a darker brown but his red roots are as stubborn as him. He clenches painfully pruned, stained hands in frustration refusing to admit defeat. Dye bottles litter the floor round his feet, fallen soldiers in what he’s now declared as war.

While attempting to bleach his hair in the kitchen sink, a route he didn’t want to take but at this point to hell with it, his mother arrives home from work. Sputtering he tries to explain but she hides a smile not judging because she’s been there before at that age, he’ll learn. On second thought, he puts down the bleach.

Several attempts later he only admits defeat after successfully making his hair brass.

In his room he lays on his bed tossing his basketball ball, worn smooth, at the ceiling, catching it on the return. The mechanical motion & smooth thud of it hitting his palms comforting. He broods about this recent failure. Why is it so hard for him to do things right? Even something this simple? Feelings of inadequacy would haunt him regardless of success or failure. He beats himself up either way. If he succeeds he questions why he couldn’t have done it faster, more efficiently. When he fails he scoffs at why he attempted the task in the first place. Refusing to dwell he pushes those thoughts aside to contemplate another day. Mid-way through dismissing his mental anguish his mother’s voice drifts in from the outer room. He Tian’s come over to see him, unannounced of course. Arms freeze post toss as he tries to decipher what fresh hell this is, the ball returns faithfully, glancing off his face.

Eyes tearing from the pain he rolls to his feet frantically searching his room for an out. Briefly considers the balcony but no, he’s not that weak. Hiding in his room will do no good, the other teen will come drag him out anyways. Amidst the loose clothes strewn on his floor he revives a hoodie, donning it & yanking the drawstrings taut. That should hide the disaster that is his hair, now dry & unruly from the previous abuse. Feeling pretty confident in not being found out he shuffles into the living room but of course the conversation stops abruptly, all eyes on him. His mother glances between him & He Tian guiltily, damn the betrayal.

He Tian greets him as usual, no smart remark, but his lips are twisting to suppress a smile.

For some some reason that’s the last straw for Mo. He rips the hood back and “..oh..”

“Go ahead laugh, everything’s funny to you right,” Mo spits. “Make a joke.”

He stares down He Tian, body rigid with tension. As the silence swells between them a familiar hot prickling sensation begins concentrating behind his eyes. He works his jaw trying to expel the unwanted emotion, knows he’ll lose as he’s lost every battle today.

He Tian deflates slightly, “..Mo..?” He says tentatively.

Mo swipes at his eyes impatiently, now really isn’t the time, the tears more out of frustration than anything. He’s in motion & halfway across the room before he realizes, pushes past both of them, can hear his mom call his name sharply. She’ll berate him later for his rude behavior. He slams into the bathroom, ripping off the hoodie to stare into the bathroom mirror, chest heaving. Hands grip the counter top as he glares at his reflection. Red rimmed eyes to match equally fucked up red hair, red nose. It’s like the whole world is mocking him.

He flips on the shower, not bothering to undress further before stepping under the scalding spray. Head submerged, tears trickle steadily but are washed away on contact. As the steam rises in a fog around him he relaxes incrementally. Inside he knows this is more than a bad dye job but it feels good to let out all those pent up emotions. He’ll decipher the reasoning later, or never, whatever.

The door creaks slightly before swinging open & shut. Mo scrubs a hand over his face hurriedly.

“..Mom I don’t want to talk about it right now," he calls.

But there’s no response. He’s reaching to rip the curtain back in annoyance when He Tian pulls it back slowly. He Tian takes in the scene in front of him without comment, perching on the edge of the tub in silence.

“What the fuck?!” Mo fumes. “What if I hadn’t been dressed!!”

“Pity,” He Tian deadpans.

Mo suddenly feels vulnerable & stupid at his previous behavior. There was no reason for him to lash out at He Tian like that. He’s reaching for some kind of explanation, an excuse even when He Tian speaks.

“Look, I’m not sure what I did or said but I’m sorry. Your mom told me you kinda fucked up your hair & I didn’t realize you were so sensitive about it. She gave me a bottle of toner. If you’ll let me, I think I can help you fix it.”

Mo nods, frozen in disbelief as He Tian rises from the tub edge to step into his space, into the shower. Mo backs up involuntarily into the stream.

“Y-You’re gonna get soaked!”

“Not important,” He Tian says reaching for the toner on the tub rim.

“Head back,” he instructs. Mo’s eyes flutter shut as He Tian gently tilts his chin up. The liquid is ice cold as it spreads on his scalp, making him stiffen but warms quickly as strong fingers massage it quickly through his hair, careful to keep it out of his eyes. Mo’s thankful for the water & steam that hide his tear streaked cheeks. Though He Tian runs a thumb tenderly under his eye to catch ‘suds’. Once the toner sets he helps Mo wash it out before both parties shut off the water & step out of the shower.

Mo snags a towel from the rack rubbing it roughly through his hair, eager to hide his flushed face. It comes off streaked with color, his hair plastered in all directions.

“Looks better already,” He Tian says, teasing at Mo's topmost strands. He’s completely soaked.

“Yea yea,” Mo replies knocking his hand away. “You’re dripping all over the floor.” He tosses a second towel to He Tian.

He Tian wipes clear a space in the foggy mirror, stepping back & gesturing to Mo. “See for yourself,” he insists.

Mo approaches the mirror cautiously, mind cycling back to his image from earlier. He doesn’t realize his eyes are closed until a steady hand rests on his shoulder.

“I promise it looks fine.”

He cracks open one eye and then the other. He Tian’s right, it’s significantly better than before. He runs a hand through it. Not great but passable. Dry as hell though, it could use some conditioner.

“Thanks..” Mo says eyes downcast.

“You’re welcome,” He Tian replies. “Though you should really thank your mom.”

Silence falls between them again but there’s comfort in it this time, a mutual understanding.

Mo shivers when a a hand glides lightly over the closely cropped hairs on his neck.

“You know,” He Tian starts. “Your red hair is beautiful. That’s how I noticed you to begin with.”


End file.
